Always Mine
by Del Rion
Summary: Imaginary snippets of what might have happened after the fifth season. Short glimpses of life and love on Liberty Avenue – and the world around it. In a way connected with "Briefly Yours" and "Dirty His".
1. Story Info

**Story Info**

**Title:** Always Mine

**Author:** Del Rion

**Fandom:** Queer as Folk

**Era:** 2005- (after QAF)

**Genre:** Drama, angst

**Rating:** M / FRM

**Summary:** Imaginary snippets of what might have happened after the fifth season. Short glimpses of life and love on Liberty Avenue – and the world around it.  
In a way connected with "Briefly Yours".

**Warnings:** Slash, language, references to violence and underage sex, death, drug abuse, drunkenness, (and a lot else not perhaps mentioned here).

**Disclaimer:** The characters, original story, and the places belong to the makers, creators, and producers of the series – Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen, Daniel Lipman, Showtime, and Showcase. No harm intended; no profit made. I'm just borrowing.

**Beta:** Mythra

**Feedback:** Yes, please; it is much appreciated. The bad and the good.

**Author's Notes:** English is not my native language, so it isn't perfect. Any mistakes left in this text – even after the wonderful work of my beta-reader – are all mine. No hard feelings…

And other than that, big thanks to my beta who has survived with me like a decent human being (even if I might not deserve that at times)!

**

* * *

About _Always Mine_:** This is not actually a story, but a collection of short stories and ficlets. Therefore the story has no end, but it may "continue" whenever a new idea strikes me. The parts, not chapters, take place somewhere after the journey presented in the TV-show "Queer as Folk". The parts are not tied together, either, so it doesn't matter in which order you read them.

**

* * *

Parts and their status:** Here below you see the writing process of the story's parts – planned or written. If there is no text after the part's name, then it is finished and checked (until I do some updating…)

**My Sunshine**  
**For One Night**  
**Memorize**  
**Overdose**  
**Weather Delay**


	2. My Sunshine

**Author's Note:** Brian's POV.

**

* * *

**

My Sunshine

* * *

I sit in my office, a magazine laid out in front of me on an empty desk. I don't read stuff like this, but, as Cynthia pointed out, perhaps I should. What a sneaky, effective way that woman has to lure my attention into just the right places. So, many thanks to her, it caught my interest.

_He_ caught my interest.

It's the same as years ago, the night we first met on Liberty Avenue. Ever since, he has managed never to bore me once, or make me turn away. There's always something new to be found in him, even if you think you've seen it all.

The world is beginning to grow aware of that, too.

I open the magazine, and flip through the pages slowly. I don't even look at the able of contents to find the page I'm looking for. It will come across my path eventually – like he did, and eventually will again.

When I find the page I've been looking for, I know it immediately. It's not the big title with his name on it that draws my eyes. It's the picture of him, standing in front of a painting I can tell is his. He's smiling. He looks proud. Happy. Like he belongs.

And he does.

That's why I let him go.

He has to live this part of his life. And when he's done, perhaps he will return here. To Pittsburgh. Home. To me.

It's kind of ironic that I'm thinking about this to begin with. But I've learned to live with the idea since he left. We never said "goodbye". We never said it was over. Quite the contrary.

I look at the page again, my eyes passing over words full of amazement and admiration. He's conquering the world, my Sunshine. And when he's done, he will come back to reclaim what he left behind. Me.

I'm pathetic, perhaps. Pathetic like he used to be, believing all those clichés that we're dealing with each day of our lives. But at least our lives are not on hold for a better day to come; we live our lives to their fullest, walking towards the one goal that means most to us at the moment.

Last question in the brief interview catches my attention in the middle of my musings.

"_What do you think of love?"_

_**Justin:**__ You cannot know love – or know that you're in love – unless you feel pain. I have known both. I will, each and every day of my life. It's both the greatest tragedy and the greatest of love stories ever written. And we all make our own stories, be it tragedy or something else._

I'm proud of my Sunshine, I truly am. He outgrew all my expectations. And one day, perhaps I shall tell him that.

**The End**


	3. For One Night

**For One Night

* * *

**

_For one night's sake._ That was what Brian kept telling himself as he threw objects of uttermost necessity into a suitcase. He had less than an hour to get to the airport, and he was already late according to his carefully planned schedule. His latest client had caused a delay, taking more of his time than expected, and they hadn't even ended up in the bathroom fucking.

This was what happened when one didn't tell of his plans to another soul, Brian knew, and rushed to the bathroom to get the rest of the needed items. There wasn't much he would need, though, and that was what kept him from missing his flight altogether.

The entire journey to Dallas was spent thinking, over and over again, if this was a smart move. But he couldn't turn away now; not when he was so close to his goal.

After the plane landed Brian took a cab from the terminal, gave the driver the address of his hotel and sat back, trying to calm down. He had used all his connections to confirm he was in the right hotel. Still a small voice of doubt kept nagging at the back of his mind: _what if…_ He told his mind to shut up for the rest of the drive. Brian Kinney didn't worry about such things.

He was shown to his room in the hotel whose standards were far from his usual demands. "For one night," Brian told himself again, aloud this time. He laid his bag on the bed and unzipped it. He only had a few hours to kill, and he had to shower and perhaps get something to eat in that time.

Brian's lunch in the restaurant of the hotel was spent poking at his food, eyes staring off into the distance. Eventually he returned to his room, took a shower, and put on clothes he had laid out earlier. The clock kept ticking and his hands shook when he fastened his tie, eyes almost wild as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Brian shook his head, checked his outfit once more, and then called a cab.

He arrived at his destination almost twenty minutes late, thanks to being stuck in traffic because of a car crash somewhere miles ahead. He showed his invitation to the doorman, and was allowed in with a polite nod. He had used quite a lot of time and effort to get his hands on this invitation-card, and at the moment he hoped it would pay off.

When he entered the crowded gallery, it was apparent the event had already begun. With a pang of remorse Brian walked past the crowd, completely ignoring the waitresses with drinks. There would be time for drinks later, when he would really need them. His eyes sought one thing only, but when he found his target, he froze. _What now? What will I say? 'Hi, I decided to drop by your first grand opening!'_ It sounded lame in his head. Maybe he should say nothing at all. Speech and explanations were overrated anyway, and there was no reason at all to be nervous.

The problem was solved as the target of his attention suddenly noticed him. For a moment they just stared at each other before the other man strode right up to Brian.

Surprise had shifted into a dazzling, warm smile by the time Justin approached him. "You missed my speech."

"Traffic was a bitch," Brian mumbled.

"You're here now." An unimportant but soft reply followed with a step forward into Brian's personal space.

Their eyes met, breaths mimicked a similar rhythm and before they knew it, their lips came into contact, reluctant to let go once joined. It was nothing like their usual kisses: the heat was still there, but it was overpowered by reconnection and love that had been held for too long.

Out in the crowd someone called Justin's name, and they broke apart with regret. "You better go," Brian said, seeing an important-looking man coming towards them.

"Come on, then," Justin replied and took Brian's hand, dragging him along before the older man got a say. "Murphy, this is Brian. Brian, my promoter Murphy," Justin introduced the men.

Murphy looked shocked behind his huge, thick-rimmed glasses, staring at Brian as if he was seeing some kind of endangered animal. "A pleasure," the promoter said at last, reaching out with his hand.

"Likewise," Brian replied, taking the offered hand into a firm but brief shake.

In the meanwhile a woman who looked – and talked – like a reporter had taken Justin aside, her intelligent eyes shining as she listened to the young artist go on about something. As a question followed, and an even longer answer after that, Murphy turned his attention to Brian.

"It's almost surreal to finally meet you in person." Brian gave the other a surprised, slightly confused look. The promoter smiled. "He talks a lot about you – especially if you know how to listen to him. You're… well, not exactly a 'muse', but definitely something that has affected his life much; someone who's important and dear to him."

Brian frowned, glanced at Justin, and honestly didn't know how to feel about all this. Should he be happy, grateful, impressed, angry, or hurt – or just uncaring because it was just fine with him either way? All publicity was good publicity…

Murphy rescued him from deciding. "It's not like your name would hang around his neck. I just have been fortunate to work with young Justin here, for quite some time, and I have learned a thing or two from him in the process."

"That's nice," Brian finally said, still not quite comfortable with the idea. "He's quite a talent," he added then, trying not to appear rude to the other man. It wasn't as if he had a problem with being a 'known man'. His and Justin's relationship merely was something he usually didn't advertise.

"That he is," Murphy replied, grinning as a breathless but satisfied-looking Justin returned to them. "That was the fourth one tonight. I think it will be safe to assume that at least one of them will be writing an article about you and your work."

"Fifth," Justin corrected, stepping over to stand right next to Brian. "And they have all promised to put at least little something in their next issue."

"You know the _promises_," Brian put in.

"Allow me to be at least slightly optimistic on my big night," Justin nudged his partner, receiving a light swat on the ass in return. Justin turned his head to no doubt snap something clever at Brian, but the older man made his move first, locking their lips into a heated kiss. Justin fought for dominance for a while, but in the end he yielded and allowed Brian to have his way with him. Pleased, Brian commenced his advances on a new level, luring the younger man into an equally matched battle of tongues.

When Murphy cleared his throat after a while as a cue for them to stop, Brian pulled back and carefully drew his thumb over Justin's shining lips to remove the excess wetness from them. The move was met with a dazzling Sunshine-smile. For another minute they just looked at each other, until interrupted.

"I'm afraid the night is still young, and Justin's bound to go do his share of 'meet and greet'," Murphy reminded his artist, drawing a deep look of disappointment from Justin's face.

"Hey, no faces like that," Brian chastised. "You go do what you do best – charm people out of their wits – and I'll go check the catering, and perhaps some art, too, as I'm here," he concluded with a lopsided smirk.

"Is that really what I do best?" Justin whispered as he pushed against and past Brian.

"At least that's what meets the public eye," the older man decided, reaching over to leave a brief kiss in the blonde hair before Justin disappeared into the crowd.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully in Brian's case. He kept sipping champagne and wine, walking around the gallery. His eyes remained glued on the walls surprisingly well, rather than sliding over to the possible hot specimens in the room. He would save that for Justin. _Oh the sacrifices I'm willing to make, just for one night…_

He left the idea hanging, moving on to the next painting. For some reason, he could tell it was Justin's, even if had he not known it in advance. Perhaps he had seen too much of his art – or 'enough', as most would say. Instead he decided it was about spending such a large amount of time with Justin himself. Brian could see much of those times reflected in the drawings and paintings on the walls. In some portraits of people and places, he could see things he knew. Yet there was not a single picture of him. He had gone over the whole exhibition four times, and as he stood again by the first painting, he felt almost betrayed.

"Something missing?"

"Yes. Me," Brian said, turning to look at the artist himself.

Justin frowned, then looked at Brian with a peculiar look, as if to check if he was joking. "And if there was a picture of you here, what would you do?"

"I would tell someone to take it the fuck off the wall." Justin smiled, teeth peeking from between his lips. "But you have pictures of me, then?" Brian asked in more serious manner.

"I do," Justin confirmed as if it was a miracle, staring at the painting before them. "I just… I don't really want anyone to see them, I guess. They're too…"

"Personal."

"Something like that."

"Would you show me?"

Justin seemed to consider this, his eyes slowly moving to Brian, who was openly staring at him. "Maybe. If you want." A cautious answer that made Brian smile.

"Perhaps I want to see the glory of my beauty and youth one more time, brought to life by your capable hands," Brian announced with a dramatic sigh.

"Fuck it. You will always be beautiful," Justin replied almost harshly. Their eyes met, locked, and their bodies were drawn closer as if by unseen strings. Just before they came into a full contact, Justin blinked and shook himself. "The party's almost over. I should go to find Murphy, say some goodbyes, and then we could go…" He left the line hanging, probably waiting to see what Brian would decide.

"I have a hotel room. I'll get us a cab while you say your farewells." If Justin was surprised, he hid it with a look of euphoric joy. With nothing more than a wave of his hand, he was gone again, leaving Brian to deal on his own. Not that Brian really whined. He went outside, lit a smoke, and stared into the distance deep in thought. Only, he wasn't thinking. His brain could not function beyond Justin's smile, smell, taste… The brief touch of skin that Brian had stolen tonight, and which now made his body tingle. It had been a long time since he had felt this anxious about sex.

Approximately ten minutes later Justin appeared in the lobby with Murphy in tow, and Brian set his eyes on catching them a ride. By the time the blonde got out, Brian had a cab waiting. Without as much as a glance they climbed inside. Justin cast Brian a long look when he gave the driver their address, but said nothing. Only when they arrived at the hotel and stood before the door of Brian's room did Justin speak his mind.

"You do know that my room is the one next to this?" Blue eyes were full of question, yet answered to the mirth in Brian's own.

"Of course. You have no idea how much this cost me," the older man declared.

"Not as much as your usual rooms," Justin laughed.

"Smartass," Brian growled, slapping the ass before him, then opened the door for them. "Make yourself at home," he noted as Justin bent down to take off his shoes. The fine curve of young male body was tempting, and Brian couldn't resist in the long run. His hands, as if they had a will of their own, moved to trace Justin's behind, his mind picturing what he could not see, but only feel at the moment.

"Brian," Justin began with a petulant voice, fighting not to topple over.

Taking pity on him, Brian moved his hands enough to catch the small waist and urged the other to stand up. His lips found a smooth neck, fingers wandering down to undo Justin's belt.

"You really are in a hurry," the centre of his attention noted. "Slow down, will you?"

Brian froze for a moment, then set out to release Justin from his clothing with renewed vigour. "One night," he mumbled to Justin's skin. "I have to fly back to Pitts in the morning. I only have one night."

That seemed to do the trick. Justin swirled around, drew Brian's head down and locked their mouths into a deep kiss that left nothing unsaid. Brian's hands were no longer the only ones fighting with the clothes.

* * *

The world was grey on the outside. The sun wasn't going to rise for a few hours still, and even the sound of traffic seemed far away. The room was filled with silence, occasionally disturbed by a sound coming from somewhere beyond its walls.

Brian's hand moved in slow, random patterns; down Justin's back, over the swell of his ass, tracing down along the smooth thighs, then back up again, feeling ribs move with steady breaths. Silky blonde hair was spilled on the mattress, the blue eyes opening and sliding back shut as Justin kept dozing in and out of sleep.

Years ago Brian would have been either up and about at this hour, or busy fucking Justin into said mattress – whether the other man was awake and participating or not. Yet this morning he was happy to simply lay there, touch his lover, and just… be. He recognized the change in himself but gave the accusing, repulsed thoughts no room for attention. He was happy like this. This was about 'now', and not what had been before, even if it meant he was getting old. He just didn't care.

He had been ready to make a lot of effort for one single night. Now it seemed he was willing to sacrifice a lot for the morning after. Never mind his pride. Justin was warm and pleased in his arms, and that was all that mattered, really.

A small sound issued from between Justin's lips, and the relaxed body shifted a little closer to Brian. The older man couldn't keep from smiling, or from bowing his head to place a long, tender kiss to the smooth cheek. Justin sighed, shifted a little more, and was asleep again in a matter of seconds. Brian didn't blame him: the previous day must have been both nerve-wracking and tiring for the young artist.

He lay still for a moment, Brian continuing to draw lazy circles on the pale skin. After half an hour passed, the brunette started to divide his attention between his sleeping lover and the room. His eyes traced the path their clothes had left from the doorway to the bed. A piece of paper just beside the bed caught his attention, and the longer he stared at it, the greater the temptation grew.

Finally, unable to resist, Brian carefully got up from the bed, picked up the paper and then returned to his earlier position. He carefully unfolded the note, then frowned slightly when his eyes met Justin's familiar handwriting. After the first few lines he figured this was the blonde's speech from last night.

Smiling, he reached out with one hand to pet the tousled hair of his sleeping partner, his mind fully absorbed in the words.

_This evening is special to me, so thank you for coming._

_A few years ago I would have not believed this could be happening: my solo exhibition. To be honest, I'm scared about the whole idea of it, but here we are. The road up till now hasn't been easy. Roughly five years ago, I was ready to give up art altogether, thinking that the sacrifice would fix my life, and help those around me._

_I came to my senses, though, thanks to my friends and family._

_Not long after that, doctors told me I would never draw again, owing to an accident I had. I believed them. I was angry, tired, defeated. But again I was pointed in the right direction by those who love me, and think the best of me. I'm eternally grateful for that. If it was not for them, I would not be standing here today giving this speech and seeing so many dreams of mine coming to life._

_Yet most of all, there is one person I owe more to than everyone else. He taught me things about myself that I had never known. He showed me nothing but plain honesty, and as much as he might have also hurt my feelings along the way, I respect and thank him all the more for it now._

_He taught me the true depth and meaning of love, devotion, and passion. He helped me to become what I am now, today, and even if he's not here tonight, I know he would be proud. Thank you, Brian._

For a moment Brian just stared at the paper, his hand forgetting its steady motion on Justin's head. With a curious look on his face the blonde – now very much awake – turned to look over his shoulder at what the other man was doing.

"Do you like my speech?"

"Did you really say all this?" Brian asked, while his eyes were still nailed to the final line, unstable to depart from it.

"Yes," Justin replied slowly, turning a little more. "Though originally I had 'I love you, Brian' attached to the end. I left that out, knowing you wouldn't like it, and all who needed to know could read it between the lines; because in fact I truly deeply love you." He sealed the words with a kiss to Brian's cheek.

"I love you, too," came a silent, almost forced reply. Brian still couldn't tell how he felt about this whole melodramatic shit that was supposed to be a speech. It touched him somewhere deep, though. Justin knew what he meant, anyway; the blonde didn't offer those words often, and they still held an eerily holy meaning.

"How long do you have?" Justin asked.

"Not enough time."

"Well, don't waste it then," Justin smiled.

Brian didn't. And when he turned Justin to lay with his back towards him, searched for a condom, and pushed into the warm body he loved, he knew he would do this again.

For one night's sake.

**The End**


	4. Memorize

**Author's note:** Justin's POV.

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Memorize

* * *

It was all a coincidence.

My mom called me to find out if I had the key to our old house – she had to return it to the new owner. That's when I also found out that she and Tucker were moving in together. Somehow she had forgotten to tell me that before. I went through my keys, found the one I was looking for – and another I didn't even think I had anymore.

So, when I took an extended weekend trip to Pitts, I couldn't resist the temptation.

I cannot say how I still had the key to Brian's loft. Yet there I stood, on an early Thursday evening, in a hallway that was so familiar to me; before the door that I still know better than the one in my own place in New York.

I didn't knock – nor did I tell him in advance that I was coming. After all, I had the key, so why bother to announce my arrival? And what kind of a surprise is one you know of in advance?

The place was silent when I stepped in. That was a relief of sorts, as he could have been in the middle of something. Not that I hadn't seen that 'something' before. It just didn't sit well with me, the idea of walking in on him like that.

In the loft the air smelled a little dense, and the lights were out and curtains drawn. I dropped my bag near the door and walked further in, greeted with clean kitchen and living room area. The bed was also made, no clothes lying around, and a trip to the bathroom confirmed my suspicion: Brian wasn't here.

A trip to Liberty Diner had little information to offer about Brian and his whereabouts. The single thing I learned was that he was out of town on a business trip, not expected back before next Tuesday. Just my luck, as I had to be back to New York on Sunday evening.

I heard the latest events from the guys, told some stories of my own, and even got lured into having drinks and a game of pool at Woody's. I turned down the invitation to Babylon, excusing myself as a tired traveller. It­ wasn't a complete lie, as I was pretty beat after a day with my family and then with the guys – not to forget Debbie. I also wanted some time 'alone'. So, as soon as I got back to the loft, made myself ready for bed and settled down between the clean sheets, I dialled a number I hadn't contacted in what seemed like years. It was perhaps only months, yes, but who was counting?

Several seconds passed before the line was answered.

"_Hey you."_

"Where are you?" I asked with an equal smile I would hear in the other's voice.

"_Kansas, believe it or not,"_ Brian snorted.

"How are the steaks?" I had to ask.

"_Fine. I will have a hard time working them off, though."_

"What? No entertainment for you in there to take care of the extra carbohydrates immediately?"

"_Perhaps I'm getting picky, but no, not really. Where are you?"_

"Where you _should_ be." There was a stunned silence on the other end. "In your loft, in Pittsburgh. I had the keys, and thought to pay you a visit. Obviously, you weren't here."

"_Obviously."_

"Why, are you upset? You sure sound like it."

"_I'm never 'upset'."_

"So I thought."

"_But I think I am."_

"What?"

"_Upset. After five hectic months I supposedly have you in my bed – probably naked – but I'm not there to enjoy it."_

I shifted slightly, definitely hearing the disappointment, irritation, and heat in his voice. "I kinda feel sorry too, for you not being here. Even if I didn't come to Pitts only to see you."

"_So I'm the second-best reason to come over, huh?"_ A faked mockery crawled through the line.

"You're the bonus," I smirked. "The kind of bonus that makes me think that a shitty trip will be worth taking. And perhaps it might lure me to come again."

"_Come again…"_ Brian hummed as if greatly satisfied by the words. _"That would be the agenda of the night if I were there."_

"No doubt. Been there, done that."

"_And you always came back for more."_

"If you mention the word 'come' one more time, I'm going to cream your expensive satin sheets."

"_So you _are_ in my bed!"_

"Was there ever any question?"

"_I like you on the sofa too… And against the kitchen sink."_

"In the shower, pressed against the stall…"

"… _sprawled across the dinner table…"_

"…against the wall by the door…"

"…_spread open in the elevator when I'm too busy getting inside you to get inside the loft."_

"Gross, Brian. And we've never done that."

"_Gives us something to do later. When do you have to go back?"_

"Sunday evening."

Not to be defeated, he asks again: _"When will you be back?"_

There's a note of hope in his voice, and I can just sigh, feeling guilty. "I don't know…"

"_Then I have to come to New York. I'll call you in advance, though."_

"Do that. I won't be disappointed again…"

"_Can't risk that artist's temper of yours."_ There was a brief pause, a sound of shuffling on the other end, and then Brian was back again. _"Still willing to cream my expensive satin sheets?"_

I smirked, slid a little further down on the bed, bent my legs and answered proudly: "Willing and able."

It was time to memorize what we couldn't do at the moment. We would live up to it later.

**The End**


	5. Overdose

**Author's note:** Justin's POV.

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* * *

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Overdose

* * *

It shouldn't havebeen that big of a deal.

I guess that's what everyone says at some point. In New York such a thing can be perilous. That you believe the 'that won't happen to me' -excuse people give. I bet there are people rolling around in their graves all over the place at the mention of those famous last words.

I never said it, but that doesn't mean I didn't _think_ it. You are only invincible until you are proven wrong. I have been proven wrong plenty of times, but still I kept pushing forward. It's not life if you sit at home – which isn't exactly safe either, looking at the statistics – and let the world slide past you. Everyone needs to test their boundaries once in a while to know where they exist, in whatever small way.

I wasn't testing my luck. I didn't even feel overconfident, nor was there a need to show off – to myself or anyone else.

It just happened.

And the next time I awoke after Alan's party I was in a hospital, familiar faces gathered all around me.

I would groan if able, but I feel too dizzy for that. My mom and Debbie start talking at once, followed by pointed looks from Michael, worry from Em and Ben, and pity from Ted. Brian looks both furious and frustrated. He is the one to empty the room before the women manage to get out more than three sentences each.

I make a mental note to thank Brian later.

Once the people are out I hear the door click shut. A few seconds later he is beside the bed again. When Brain speaks, he sounds just as disappointed as he looks. "What the fuck, Justin?"

I would flinch if my body wasn't feeling like a pile of papier-mâche. He still knows how to make me feel like crap with one single short sentence. "I didn't mean forit to happen." The words coming from my mouth sound strange, but by the look on his face, he hears them alright. There is still something wrong with the whole picture… "Why am I here?"

I expect him to say 'shit happens', but Brian spares me from that. Instead he sits down into a chair beside the bed, forcing me to turn my head in order to see him. Bastard. "This is what can happen after using drugs not prescribed by your own doctor," he says, not even trying to mimic my voice. He gets the point across loud and clear.

I screwed up. Big time.

Brian leans forward in his seat and I distantly have thethought that he would be more comfortable sitting on the bed. "I thought we had an agreement," he starts talking again. "That you would not use drugs –of any sort – when I'm not around."

"You take a fix whenever you like, alone or not," I interject.

"Because I'm stupid," Brain deadpans, totally serious. "You ought to be smarter than me – smarter than this." He doesn't have to gesture around the room to make me understand what he means.

"Alan's a good guy. I trust him. Besides he doesn't buy shitty stuff. Ever." I don't even know why I'm trying to defend myself.

Brian keeps upthe calm face, his eyes telling the real story. "You've done this before?"

"We used to do this all the time when I lived in Pitts! It's not like it's my first time. I know how to be careful. I'm a big boy, and I can do just fine without a third mom."

"You never overdosed with me." I hate it when Brian is like this, so official. Always right – and he knows it. And yet I know he isn't like this with anyone but me. I should be glad for this personal performance. Well, I am not: I hate it when he gets worried because it makes me feel like shit. And I have been feeling like that even before he started inwith his 'speech'.

"You can't be with me all the time," I finally say. "And you aren't even supposed to! You've always said – with your actions – that I have to make my own mistakes. Otherwise I will never learn." He is quiet, musing over it. I feel a little better and even dare to try moving. Yes, I can feel my arms and legs, move my fingers and wriggle my toes. "I'm fine," I tell him. "Now stop preaching because I know I'm eventually going to get the third degree from my mom and Debbie."

"You could have died," Brian reminds me yet again, though he is smiling now. I guess I really scared him.

"In New York, there's like dozen and more other things to get me killed more likely than a drug overdose. I'm aware of that."

"You should be."

"And you know I am."

"Yes."

"So, stop fucking worrying and some sit closer. My neck's starting to cramp."

He doesn't, still smiling, and when my mom decides it is time to enter the scene, Brian stays where he is. The only difference is that he slides his hand over to hold mine, which tells me he really understands. That doesn't mean he approves, but that's okay. That's how it should be. Now I just needed to get ussome time alone so I can show him how _fine_ I really am…

**The End**


	6. Weather Delay

Written for **Del Rion's Table of Inspiration #1**.

Inspiration words: Storm, candles, pain (the good kind).

Inspiration by: Nikki (nikki6).

* * *

**Weather Delay**

* * *

Last time Justin called, it was to notify Brian that his flight had been delayed. One look at the weather report, and Brian could tell L.A. was having its share of rain, wind, and lightning for the month.

Inconveniently, that happened to be the day Justin was supposed to return from his three-week trip to the City of Angels. His show had been a success, he was feeling right at home with the warm welcome, the old resentments pretty much forgotten, but what pleased Brian most – even if he wouldn't openly admit it – was that his blond lover 'missed him a lot'. Justin's own words, so Brian wasn't just making it up for his own satisfaction.

If everything had gone according to their plans, Justin would have been in Pittsburgh by now – his home again after eighteen successful but lonely months in New York. Brian had planned to drive them home from the airport, fuck the younger man hard in the shower – Justin would have demanded that he freshen up after his flight, anyway – and then he would have taken them out for a candle lit supper at one of the finest restaurants in town.

Now, instead of that, he sat in the loft by himself, waiting for word from Justin about the new possible time of departure. After three weeks, it should have been easy to wait a couple more hours, or even a day. If he was trying to be reasonable, Brian shouldn't have been this _excited_ about the other's return, but he was, and he didn't have to start thinking deep to decide if it was healthy or not; he loved Justin, missed Justin, almost physically hurt when Justin wasn't around even if he was supposed to be, and craved that pale body like he craved no other's.

Perhaps he was getting old, dependant, and pathetic, but he knew the moment he saw Justin and held him close, it would all be worth it. He could dismiss all his current feelings of bitterness and focus on the present.

That decided – not for the first time since Justin left to work in New York, and probably not the last either – he went back to waiting. It wouldn't do him any good to pointlessly wonder _why_ he felt the way he did; even if Justin would no doubt enjoy exploring it if he knew, Brian thought it was merely a waste of time and energy. He had faced those demons long ago and dealt with them. These were mere echoes here to taunt him when they had the chance.

It was late in Pittsburgh, but on the West Coast they were a few hours behind. Brian wondered if Justin had fallen asleep nonetheless; otherwise he surely would have called again by now. Justin used to have a phenomenal skill for sleeping wherever and whenever, back when he was still a teenager.

Deciding that Justin had gone to sleep and would let him know when there was something to tell, Brian got up and went to grab a drink. He didn't feel like going out, and since he had already cancelled their table reservation, he could just stay home and wait. He was surprisingly fine with that.

His phone rang when he was in the middle of a beer. Brian eyed the phone, then with his bottle in tow he walked over to where it vibrated on the living room table. He seated himself on the couch before reaching out for the cell, and was a bit surprised to see Justin's name flashing on the screen.

"Hi, Sunshine. Having a bad dream?" he asked playfully.

"_You thought I was asleep?"_ Justin's voice drifted through the line after a brief moment of hesitation.

Brian just made a sound at that, sipping his beer.

"_A power failure started about an hour ago. There's such a ruckus going on that no one could sleep in it."_

Brian snorted, picturing Justin a few years younger and sleeping in the airport while everyone else was freaking out around him.

"_They say they'll get the electricity back on in an hour, latest__. After that it will take a while to figure out if we will fly out tonight. Probably not, since we haven't even boarded the plane and the storm's still going on outside."_

"You're okay?" Brian asked, trying to make it sound casual and indifferent – anything but worried. Even if he was a bit concerned for his lover, he didn't need Justin freaking out 2.4 thousand miles away from him.

"_Yeah,"_ Justin answered. _"Got some food earlier. The line was at least a mile long, I swear. I hope they have a stock or we'll starve."_

"That won't happen unless the whole lot of you decide to camp there for a couple days," Brian comforted him even if Justin didn't sound overly worried.

"_There're__ a lot of people here. No one in their right mind is going outside. Actually, I don't even know if the doors work with the power gone."_

Brian wondered that if the power was indeed out, shouldn't it affect their cell phone discussion as well? He decided not to ask and save his breath for something else. "What are you having?" he asked instead.

"_A day old sandwich and some salad. Doesn't exactly taste that good, but I'm hungry."_ Justin still had an appetite even if he wasn't growing that much anymore.

"Well, think on the bright side: you don't have to look at what you're eating since the lights are out."

Justin laughed. _"Someone asked for candles, but they gave us a few flashlights instead. So, there's just enough light to see that I'm eating food and not something else. You can't believe how much of a mess people can create after being left alone in the dark for a while."_

Brian could imagine it, but didn't particularly want to.

"_I miss you."_

Coming from Justin, it wasn't a shocker. It came quite suddenly, though, surprising him. "You'll be here soon. Be a big boy." Of course Brian would not mention how much _he_ wanted the other to be here, preferably right this moment and not when the goddamned weather said so. "I planned to take you out when you arrived," Brian confessed. It was sort of funny. "To a candle-lit supper."

"_I'm looking forward to that__ despite the delay,"_ Justin replied. Brian could imagine the soft, pleased smile on his face. He loved it that Brian was making plans for them.

"Whenever you get here," Brian promised.

Some years ago he might have told Justin he had blown his chances, and that he could go fuck himself if he thought they would do it another time. He might have even added he was going down to Babylon to look for entertainment since Justin wasn't there.

That was not the case anymore, though. Brian might go to check how things went over at the club, but he knew Ted had everything under control. Now he would just keep waiting until he could pick Justin up from the airport. Good obedient boyfriend…

It was almost painful how things had changed for them, especially since their life was far from ideal even now; Justin worked for his career, sometimes from home, sometimes in another city – occasionally in another country. The most important thing, though, was that Justin called Brian's loft 'home'. Brian knew his lover was always coming back, whatever the reason for his absence.

"_I gotta go. Save my cell battery for later, whenever there's something to tell,"_ Justin said. He sounded tired, and Brian bet he could use a nap when he arrived. Unless, of course, he fell asleep waiting for the plane.

"Take care, you. Don't talk to strangers and always remember to use a condom," Brian lectured.

"_I love you too,"_ Justin told him, knowing what Brian tried to keep from saying.

"And I, you," Brian amended, his tone almost fond. Soon enough Justin would be home, and they could lie down together on this couch and the blond would tell him all the fantastic stuff about L.A.

And then Brian could show him why Pittsburgh was so worth coming back to.

**The End**


End file.
